Chapter 277: Fake Crown

Isolde’s breath caught in her throat, her pale eyes fixed on the figure before her. The crown of thorns on Vladislav’s brow pulsed with that deep, blood-red light, and for a moment, she was seventeen again, standing in the great hall of her father’s castle, watching him hold court with that same cold expression.

She forced herself to breathe. Forced her voice to steady.

"It’s been a long time... Father."

Vladislav’s crimson eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. His hollow smile didn’t waver, but something flickered behind that gaze, something that might have been recognition or perhaps just curiosity.

"Has it?" His voice was soft, almost gentle, as if he were discussing the weather rather than the centuries that had passed since they last stood face to face. "I confess, I lost track. Time flows differently when you’re... dead."

Isolde flinched at the word, her pale fingers curling into fists at her sides.

"You’re not real." Her voice cracked, but she forced herself to continue. "You’re just a manifestation. A fear I couldn’t let go of."

Vladislav tilted his head, the crown of thorns catching the fading amber light.

"Am I?" He took a step forward, and Isolde instinctively stepped back, her shoulders brushing against Adam’s chest. "I feel real. I remember real things. I remember holding you when you were small, before your mother left. I remember teaching you to summon blood, to shape it, to make it dance."

His crimson eyes drifted to the blood still pooled on the stone floor, and it rose, shaping itself into the form of a small bird that fluttered briefly before dissolving back into crimson droplets.

"I remember the day you left," he continued, his voice dropping. "You didn’t even say goodbye."

Isolde’s throat bobbed. Her voice came out barely a whisper.

"You were going to sacrifice me."

Vladislav’s expression didn’t change.

"I was going to give you purpose. There’s a difference."

Adam’s voice cut through the tension, flat and cold.

"There’s no difference. You were going to kill your own daughter for power."

Vladislav’s crimson eyes shifted to Adam, studying him with that same detached curiosity.

"And you? What would you sacrifice for power?"

Adam’s lips curled into a cold smile.

"Nothing. I take what I need."

Then Vladislav laughed. It was a soft, dry sound, utterly without humor.

"How naive."

He raised his hand, and the blood that had pooled across the floor rose in a single, undulating wave. It didn’t attack. It simply hovered there, waiting.

"But perhaps that’s why she follows you." His gaze drifted back to Isolde. "You offer her something I never could. Hope."

Isolde’s voice was steadier now, though her hands still trembled.

"You’re not my father. My father died a long time ago. Whatever’s left is just...." She gestured at the blood, at the crown, at the cold, hollow figure before her. "A ghost and I’m done being haunted by you."

Vladislav inclined his head, that hollow smile still playing on his lips.

"Then prove it."

The blood surged.

Adam didn’t wait. He grabbed Isolde’s arm and yanked her behind him, his other hand already raised.

"[Tempest Sovereign]!"

The vortex exploded from his palm, meeting the crimson tide head-on. Blood sprayed, evaporating where the lightning touched it, but the wave reformed, pressing forward, relentless.

Ignis’s flames joined the assault, a torrent of solar fire that turned the blood to steam. Lilith’s threads wove a barrier in front of them, deflecting the crimson droplets that slipped past the fire.

Adam’s crimson eyes remained locked on Vladislav, his mind racing as the crimson tide pressed against their defenses. The blood hissed where it met Ignis’s flames, but it didn’t retreat. It kept coming, patient and hungry.

"We need to find his weakness," Adam said, his voice tight with focus. "That crown, it’s making him too strong."

Isolde’s blood rose around her, forming a protective barrier that shimmered like dark glass. Her voice was steady now, though her hands trembled.

"That crown is a skill. A buff that allows the user to manipulate blood freely and exert complete influence over it. His aura also suppresses everything around him. It weakens enemies, makes them hesitate, feeds on their fear."

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to continue.

"The crown itself... it was inspired by ancient texts about an old artifact. Gluttony." Her gaze flickered to Adam’s brow, where the Crown of the Hollow Glutton pulsed faintly. "My father studied those texts for decades. He had a... revelation. He couldn’t recreate the artifact itself, but he learned to imitate it. To shape his own blood into something that functioned like a lesser version of the real thing."

Adam’s internal voice sharpened.

’So that’s why the crowns feel similar. He copied Gluttony’s design.’

Isolde’s voice dropped, barely audible over the roar of flames and the hiss of blood.

"And the blood he controls... it can consume anything it touches. Not just burn or dissolve, but devour. Absorb. Whatever it consumes feeds him. Makes him stronger."

Ignis’s flames flickered wildly. "So if we touch it, we’re basically feeding him?!"

Isolde nodded grimly. "That’s why we can’t let it reach us."

Lilith’s threads pulsed around her barrier. "Then we must destroy the crown itself. Without it, his power will falter."

Adam’s crimson eyes fixed on the blood-red thorns pulsing above Vladislav’s brow.

"Then that’s our target."

Vladislav’s hollow smile widened as he watched them scramble to formulate their strategy. The blood around him churned, dark and thick, responding to his will like an extension of his own body.

"Destroy the crown?" His voice was soft, almost pitying. "An admirable thought. But useless."

He raised his hand, and the blood answered.

"[Blood Dominion: Crimson Armory]."

The crimson tide surged upward, shaping itself into weapons. Swords, spears, axes, each one formed from the same dark, churning blood, each one gleaming with that hungry, devouring light. Dozens of them. Hundreds. They hovered in the air around him, their points aimed at Adam and his companions.

"Now," Vladislav murmured, "let’s see how long you can dance."

His hand swept forward.

The weapons flew.

Adam’s eyes widened. He threw himself sideways, a blood-forged spear slicing through the space where his head had been. It embedded itself in the stone wall behind him, the stone cracking where the blood touched it, blackening, dissolving.

"[Tempest Sovereign]!"

The vortex exploded from his palm, tearing through the swarm of weapons, but for every blade he shattered, two more took its place. The blood was endless, feeding on itself, reforging faster than he could destroy it.

Ignis launched herself into the air, flames wreathing her body. She dodged a sword, twisted away from an axe, and drove her fist through a spear that had been aimed at her heart.

"There’s too many of them!"

Lilith’s threads snapped out, catching a blade mid-flight and redirecting it into another. Her crimson eyes swept the chaos, searching for an opening.

Then she saw it.

A shadow at the edge of the chamber, dark and deep, untouched by the amber glow of the runes.

She moved.

[Silkstep].

Her form dissolved, threads and all, slipping into the darkness like water seeping through cracks in stone. She emerged behind Vladislav, Soulreaver already reforming in her grip, its dark edge aimed at his spine.

The blade struck true.

It sank into his back, piercing through flesh, through bone, through the ancient heart that should have been there. Vladislav’s form convulsed, his head snapping back, his mouth opening in a silent scream.

But he didn’t fall.

His hand shot back, faster than thought, fingers closing around Lilith’s wrist. His grip was iron, crushing, and she felt her bones creak beneath his strength.

"Cunning," he rasped, his voice strained but steady. "But not cunning enough."

The wound on his back was already closing, black ichor bubbling and sealing, the flesh knitting together before her eyes. His regeneration was too fast, too complete.

"Regeneration is a gift of our bloodline," Vladislav said, turning his head to fix her with those crimson eyes. "But you wouldn’t know that, would you? You’re not one of us."

His grip tightened. Lilith’s threads flared, trying to bind him, but the blood around him answered his call, wrapping around her wrists, her ankles, her throat. It pinned her in place, lifting her off the ground, her body stretched taut between his hold and the crimson tendrils.

Vladislav’s gaze drifted to her throat, where her pulse beat a frantic rhythm beneath pale skin.

"It’s been a long time," he murmured, "since I’ve tasted blood."

He leaned closer, his fangs lengthening, his breath cold against her neck.

Lilith’s crimson eyes blazed.

"Adam—!"

Adam was already moving.

He crossed the distance in a blur, his fist already cocked back, dark energy crackling around his knuckles. His voice tore from his throat, hoarse and furious.

"[Monarch’s Pierce]!"

His fist slammed into Vladislav’s jaw.

The vampire’s head snapped to the side, his grip on Lilith faltering. The blood holding her loosened, and she slipped free, stumbling back, her threads already reforming.

Adam stepped between them, his crimson eyes blazing, his chest heaving.

"Get your filthy hands off my woman."